Sunday, March 23, 2014

American Psycho

READY FOR THE EIGHTIES

I have had a long conversation with my lawyers regarding Kathie Lee Gifford's
appropriation of my original GlamourPuss designs for her cheap and tawdry
knock-offs. Unfortunately, I have little recourse in regards to stopping her.
My legal friends have suggested that rather than battle Miss Gifford, I simply
undercut her with my own moderately priced ready to wear line. As my name is so
much more famous than hers, they think I should be able to drive her out of the
market in a couple of months. My lawyers are, as I type, are scouting venture
capital firms to fund VickiWear , under the Vicki Lester
label. VickiWear, soon available at all finer K-Marts, Wal-Marts and
Pic-n-Saves, will use the GlamourPuss concept to bring bugle beads and marabou
to the masses. I feel that the women of America can use more glitter in their
life and, after such success with using Cats as a starting
point for the designs, Bob Mackie and I are going to move to other Broadway
shows for inspiration. Early concept sketches include lines based on The
Phantom of the Opera, Abie’s Irish Rose and Tobacco Road .

I have received an invitation to bring my Sink For Your Supper Concert
to Salina, Utah next month for an appearance with the Polygamy Polyphonic, a
symphony in which all 47 players are members of the same family. I have been
told, given their conservative religious beliefs that I will have to restage
the finale. My skirt losing moment is right out and will have to be replaced
with some other spectacular staging. I have not yet decided what might fit the
moment. Joseph, my manager, is busy researching Mormon entertainments by
watching old episodes of Donny and Marie in search of
inspiration. Norman, meanwhile, is busy learning his lines for his appearance
as Cletus Teazle in the modern trailer park adaptation of The School
for Scandal , which is being produced by a studio called Troma of
which I had not heard. Therefore, things are quiet here at Chateau Maine.

To keep from drifting into complete stupor, I repaired to the home theater to
get the adrenaline flowing and happened across the DVD of Mary Harron’s film
adaptation of American Psycho . When the novel, by Brest
Easton Ellis, was first published, I assumed that it was a biography of Alfred
Hitchcock and was confused for some chapters by the withering social satire on
the excesses of the yuppie culture of the 1980s. The novel was attacked
viciously in some quarters over its graphic passages, which many found to be
gratuitously misogynist. I think those individuals misunderstood the point of
the novel. The over the top violence was simply in keeping with the over the
top consumer culture that was being skewered - same motivations, different
scenarios.

American Psycho is the story of Patrick Bateman (Christian Bale), a
yuppie in his late twenties living the charmed life in Manhattan, 1987. He has
a job as a vice-president at an investment bank (which does not seem to require
him to do any real work), an enormous salary, an even more enormous ego, and
moves in a world made up exclusively of others who have too much money, no real
problems, and are overly concerned with consumerist superficialities. Patrick,
however, has a secret; his bland exterior conceals a deeply disturbed mind that
revels in grotesque violence, especially against (but not confined to) women.
The movie shows us how his public face and private persona diverge more and
more as he descends into madness and makes some telling points about the whole
80s mentality, underscored by a Ronald Reagan press conference cameo, being so
soulless that monstrous acts are allowed to flourish.

Bateman and his chums are all empty suits and the movie makes clear that these
are not people; they're well manicured, impeccably dressed, interchangeable
drones. They have no lives. They have only five star restaurants, designer
clothes, upscale household items, the latest pop music, clubs, and drugs. We
can't tell the difference between them and neither can they. They're all so
obsessed with status and objectification that the presentation of new business
cards in their circle is reminiscent of a massed genital display amongst a
tribe of baboons, determining who is the alpha male. When Bateman murders one
of their circle, there doesn't seem to be any real notice of the disappearance,
and the detective hired to find the victim (Willem Dafoe in what amounts to an
extended cameo) soon gives up on these individuals with their indistinguishable
lives. The women who surround Bateman (Reese Withererspoon as his fiancée,
Samantha Mathis as his mistress, Chloe Sevigny as his secretary, Cara Seymour
as a prostitute) are just as empty as the men, although for different reasons.
They are regarded as objects in this male dominated 'masters of the universe'
society and lose themselves in drugs, degradation or meaningless activity.

Christian Bale gives an incredible performance as Bateman. He is able to show
the blank exterior and the demons behind the eyes. His Bateman is always on the
edge of losing control, and when he does, it slides naturally out of the
character he has established. The other actors are not so fortunate, mainly
because they have been given very little to do, but both Chloe Sevigny and
Reese Witherspoon manage to leave their marks. There was some talk, at one
time, of Leonardo DiCaprio playing Bateman. His 'star' persona would have
seriously upset the delicate balance of the film. Bale, who has been doing
superb work since his debut in Empire of the Sun, remains enough of
a non-personality to let us believe in Bateman's reality.

Mary Harron's adaptation of the novel works in some ways and not in others. She
is smart enough to recognize that most of the violence should be kept
off-screen (there is little on screen violence, mainly suggestions and
reactions but they're horrific enough to warrant keeping sensitive viewers
away). This is not a slasher flick that revels in its own gore and there's
nothing cartoonish about it. She is also smart enough to recognize that the
novel is satirical and she keeps that edge, although she doesn't go far enough
with it and duller witted viewers are not likely to catch many of the points
she's trying to make. She also slips up with the ending, making it so ambiguous
that we are unclear as to what is real and what is fever dream. It feels like a
bit of a cop-out, as if she's unsure herself.

The film does a good job of showing what can move into the vacuum when a soul
is obsessed with the superficial things in life like status, consumer goods,
and better tables in finer restaurants. The recreation of the period through
the use of style and music works well and underscores the vapidity of the
characters and their obliviousness to what's happening to Bateman right in
front of their eyes. There's only one major mistake, using a muzak version of a
Whitney Houston song rather than the original (I assume over rights problems).
They should have rewritten the scene to use some other original 80s piece.
Ultimately, however, I can't say that I recommend the film, as it remains
hollow and passionless, except for Bale's performance.

The DVD has a wide screen transfer and is the 'unrated' version. (Several shots
that were trimmed at the insistence of the MPAA to gain an R have been
reinserted). There is no commentary track. Extras include a brief behind the
scenes featurette and an interview with Christian Bale talking about the
character of Bateman.